


Tenacity

by kiichu



Series: Revival Oneshots [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cauterization, Character Death Fix, Fix-It, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, JUZO SUFFERS THAT'S THE FIC, One-Sided Attraction, Suffering, There's still hope though don't worry, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 10:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8140562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiichu/pseuds/kiichu
Summary: Munakata reaches Sakakura in time, but the boxer has to suffer a little longer to ensure his survival.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The first part was based lightly on roleplays, the "battery acid" line shamelessly borrowed from my Munakata RP partner. c:

_ Please. Please, let me reach him in time! _

The world flashed by Munakata in a blur, the blood roaring in his ears as his steps thundered through the long hallway. The stone walls and floor never seemed to end, the rubble littered around growing more prominent the further he ran. Monotonous gray hues surrounded the man as he continued, the doorway he needed to find not appearing quick enough.

His lungs burned as he breathed heavily, his legs beginning to ache, but the heartbeat drumming in his chest kept him going, kept him focused and dedicated to  _ save the man that had saved him _ . 

Makoto Naegi’s hopeful words echoed in Munakata’s mind, the thought of Sakakura still being alive and shutting down the power  _ for his sake  _ was almost too much to bear. He couldn’t ask the other man to do that for him, not after what Munakata had done. The boxer didn’t deserve to give his life for someone who believed he was in Despair.

_ How could I have thought that!?  _ **_Sakakura_ ** _? _

He cursed Tengan, damned the old man to be ripped from wherever he went after his death to the pits of hell for misguiding him. The chairman’s words planted the seeds of distrust, clouding Munakata’s judgment with paranoia and fear, making him assume the worst of those he’d once called friends. 

But he knew that wasn’t  _ all _ Tengan’s fault (so maybe he’d take back that curse later on), as Munakata himself had chosen to believe Sakakura would stoop to something like that. To think that Sakakura had been brainwashed somehow, when all he’d done since the game began was support Munakata’s ideals… 

How could he do that to his best friend? 

No matter how much Munakata tore him down, Sakakura never gave up on him - even now, when he was surely making a last effort to save everyone’s lives. 

Well, Munakata wouldn’t let the man’s trust and loyalty go to waste - this time, for Sakakura’s  _ own _ sake, not anyone else’s. The boxer deserved better than that. 

As he rushed down the hall, he finally spotted the doorway he’d been seeking, the path that would bring him to his dying friend. Ironic, Sakakura had left the door open - even if Munakata still had his bangle on, he’d be able to enter without any problem. 

Even when he didn’t intend to, even if it didn’t matter now without the NG Codes, Sakakura continued to try to help him. 

Munakata couldn’t find that degree of devotion anywhere on earth, and especially not with how broken the world was now. Sakakura was something special, and he brought him to the edge of his life. 

Well, no longer; Munakata swore he’d save Sakakura this time, even if he had to drag the man from the very edge of death. He pushed onwards, through the room and behind the bookshelf entrance, noting immediately the stains all over the ground and walls. 

The man’s heart almost stopped there, a cold sweat trickling down his face. There was so much -  **_too much_ ** \- blood…  _ Sakakura’s _ blood. His best friend’s blood, from the wounds  _ he _ caused, directly or otherwise. 

It was all his fault. Everything that went wrong was because of his negligence, his failure to see signs of true honor and care, and his choice to become so fixated on destroying despair that he also destroyed  _ hope _ in the process.

Munakata fought the urge to cry out, to fall to his knees and weep - but he was not done yet.  He had to face his sins; even if a body was in the next room, he’d face what he’d done. Sakakura was too  **_good_ ** to be forgotten like this. 

As the one-eyed man stumbled through another doorway, he followed the bloodstains and noted the switches in the room, all lined up with each one pulled down and shut off. Clinging to the very last one - the controller for the bracelets, most likely - was a familiar large, dark form. 

_ Sakakura!  _

Hesitantly, as though he were walking on glass bits, Munakata walked closer, noting the way his friend remained motionless with his head hung low. Once his face was visible, Munakata could see his eyes were closed, a small smile upon his lips. Blood trickled down from his face to the floor below, showcasing the final moments of a man too  **_amazing_ ** to be part of this game. 

His heart sank, and Munakata’s mind instantly went to dark places, imagining himself burying his best friend, perhaps taking a swatch of his coat as a memorial item and naming a Future Foundation building after him one day--

Instantly, those thoughts were cut off by a nearly-inaudible breathy sound, something sounding human enough to indicate that Munakata was not the only one alive in the room.

He was at his friend’s side in an instant, kneeling in front of his face. The man truly did appear dead, if not for the faint wheezing sound coming from him. His pale face was covered with sweat and blood, his mouth curled upwards in the hint of a smile. The moment Munakata drew just a bit closer, Juzo’s eyelids lifted to reveal thin slits of pink. The room was silent save for those weak breaths between them, the bloodied man’s gaze dull and glassy as he surely worked through his half-conscious mind just what -  _ who  _ \- he was looking at.

(Probably the  _ last  _ person he wanted to see, honestly.)

“Mu...nakata…” Sakakura’s voice was barely a whisper as he pushed the word through his lips, the sounds little more than weak mouth movements. He was not strong enough to get anything else out, merely blinking in confusion. 

Biting his own lip, Munakata shook his head, moving to pry his friend off the lever. Juzo’s grip was tight, almost deathly stiff, but with some gentle kneading, he managed to release his fingers from the hold. With a shaky breath of his own, Munakata released Juzo and let him fall forward into him, feeling just how cold the other man was. 

It was startling, and very indicative of how little time Sakakura had left if Munakata didn’t do anything to help  _ now _ .

“You- you’re going to be fine,” he assured shakily, his voice a low murmur. 

Sakakura let out another sound, this one reminiscent of a humorless chuckle. He moved his head back in forth in an attempt to show his disagreement, but it just made him look like he was struggling to keep his head up at all. 

“Mm...m’not,” he slurred, eyelids drooping. “‘S… ‘s the end for me.” 

“ _ No _ , Sakakura,” Munakata hissed, “I will not let this be the end. We’ve come too far. You - you don’t deserve to die like this.”

The boxer merely repeated his mock-chuckle, a sad smile crossing his pained face. “Munakata… Even...if… you abandoned me, I still… want you to live.” Tears pooled in the man’s eyes, nearly slipping loose as he repeated with a bit more force, “I want… you to  _ live _ .” 

Munakata clenched his teeth tightly, holding onto his friend for dear life. What had he ever done to deserve someone like Sakakura? He’d been so focused on his own ambitions that he didn’t even realize what others had given up for his sake.  _ All for him _ . And what did he do to repay all that trust? 

Not even a backstab - a full-frontal attack with a blade hot enough to melt anyone’s insides. 

Yet miraculously, Juzo had lived through it - he’d cut off his own arm, to prevent sleep. He’d suffered and suffered and all he wanted in return was  _ Munakata’s  _ happiness - not even  _ his own _ . 

“Sakakura.” His voice trembled, his heart pounding again. “I’m not leaving you anymore.  _ I _ want  _ you _ to live. And you will - but not without hurting a bit longer. I promise, it will be as quick as I can manage.” With the hand that wasn’t supporting Sakakura, he dug into his pocket and retrieved a leftover syringe he’d looted from Kimura’s body. 

He’d seen this particular brand of medicine in action before; it was both a system balancer and a cell regeneration enhancer. Once applied to a wounded body, it would flush the body of toxins and useless cells and forcibly build new ones to repair damage - but not without an intense amount of pain. Like washing out blood with battery acid, it would be agonizing for at least fifteen seconds before consciousness was lost. 

He didn’t have time to explain this all to Sakakura, though - not with him being nearly seconds away from death. So, with little warning, Munakata tilted his friend back, leaning him against the switchboxes, and pressed the needle into his arm, right around a vein. He’d seen Kimura do this enough times to know how and where, so he wasn’t surprised when Sakakura flinched immediately once the concoction started churning through him. 

And, just as he’d predicted, Sakakura felt the medicine’s effect seconds later; throwing his head back to bang it against the switchboxes, the man gave a long howl of pain, his body seizing up as he writhed weakly, unable to escape the fire coursing inside of him. His breaths shuddered as he desperately heaved in air, gagging on blood in his throat. He vomited it onto the floor, spilling even more crimson to paint the room. 

Bits of broken words passed through his red-stained lips, but they were merely fragments and weren’t understandable. He was trembling so much, his muscles contracting as his body tried to push out the invading medicine to no avail. 

Munakata watched his friend suffer, his heart sinking as he realized there was nothing he could do to alleviate the torment. It was merely a matter of time before Sakakura passed out, and then the hard part would be over and the drug would continue its work as he slept. But for these short moments, these terrifyingly slow fractions of time, Munakata couldn’t stand watching him agonize - it made the white-haired man want to  _ die _ . 

_ He _ put Sakakura in this position - he might as well have hung a noose around his friend’s neck, in the end. Well, Munakata mused, he would just have to cut the rope before he could fall. He’d make sure Sakakura never went through this sort of torture again - especially not at the hands of his best friend. 

“I know it hurts,” he blurted out, as if that wasn’t obvious and would have any sort of comfort. “It’s almost over. You’re going to be alright. Just hold on, Sakakura. You’re  _ strong _ .” Indeed, Sakakura was the strongest man Munakata ever knew, and not only physically. He’d taken so much over the years, and still remained loyal. 

Whatever had caused him to lie about Enoshima wasn’t for Despair’s sake, that was for damn sure. If only Munakata hadn’t been so  _ blind _ . 

Despite his writhing, Sakakura seemed to calm down the moment he heard his friend’s voice, his remaining hand reaching out instinctively, as if seeking comfort. Munakata didn’t hesitate, lacing their fingers together and gave a soothing squeeze, to indicate he was still there.

“I’m not leaving you,” he murmured again. “I’ll be here when you wake up again - I  _ promise _ .” 

The words made the boxer visibly more relaxed, his body no longer cringing or as tense. Pain still clouded his eyes, but underneath it all, there was a sense of unmistakable trust in his gaze. Despite the betrayal, despite being abandoned like trash by someone he called his friend, Sakakura was still entrusting himself in Munakata’s care. 

It was enough to make tears pool under Munakata’s eye as he knelt there, watching his friend dutifully. He watched as Sakakura closed his eyes and his face muscles relaxed, unconsciousness dragging the man away from the agony of the medicine at last. 

Letting out a long breath of relief, Munakata pressed a hand to Sakakura’s throat to gauge his pulse; it wasn’t nearly as strong as it should be, but steady enough not to warrant immediate concern. The injected medicine swam freely through his system, mending broken vessels and regenerating lost blood cells. 

Munakata had faith in Kimura’s concoctions, as he’d been the one to scout her out after she’d been expelled from Hope’s Peak. There was also the matter of his open wound; Munakata wasn’t sure the medicine could do anything for the amputation, leaving him with no other choice on how to take care of it. He’d have to use his katana and cauterize the wound, as painful as it would be. 

He didn’t doubt for a second that the drug would work on the rest of his body, but it was also up to Sakakura to  _ hold on _ through it all, and ultimately let it do its job. 

“Please,” Munakata whispered. “Hold on.”

* * *

Naegi anxiously glanced down the hallway, keeping his senses sharp for any signal of Munakata’s return. The white-haired man had kept a straight sprint back towards the power room, going to confront Sakakura. The boxer had shut off the lights, triggering the emergency backup, and continued to dismantle the building’s electricity switch by switch, eventually destroying the bangles around their wrists.

Sakakura hadn’t looked well the last Naegi saw him, so the boy feared what Munakata would find in that room. While Sakakura seemed to be giving one last effort to save his friend, he was using all of his strength and most likely sealed his own demise in the process. However, something told Naegi that Sakakura was probably aware of what he was risking and losing, and still went ahead with the sacrifice. 

Well, Naegi didn’t want that; there didn’t need to be any more deaths, not when the ‘attacker’ had been found out. Kirigiri gave her life for them to find the answers, and Kizakura before her. Too many people had lost their lives in this prison, and Naegi wanted nothing more than to save the four people remaining with him - including Sakakura. 

Why didn’t he offer to help, when he saw the man bleeding out from his makeshift tourniquet, leaving behind a trail of blood as he stumbled off? Some hero; he could’ve easily overpowered Sakakura and aided him by force if necessary. There was no reason for the boxer to die. 

_ This is my fault. If Munakata comes back even more shaken up than before…  _ Naegi shuddered; would the katana-wielding man attack again? Would he surrender to the emotional agony? What would  _ any _ man do, if he lost the two most important people in his life? The thought was unbearable and haunting; Naegi had to shake his head clear to keep the lingering despair from the edges of his mind. 

“What is taking them so long?” Asahina asked, pacing back and forth with a hand on her wrist. “I’m glad we don’t have those stupid bracelets anymore, but - what  _ now _ ? What does this mean now?” 

“I don’t know,” Naegi admitted. “Munakata may know this building better. We can figure out where to go once he returns.” 

Mitarai gave a nervous glance around and stammered, “I-I wonder if Sakakura will come back with him.” 

“Eh? Why wouldn’t he?” Asahina asked, eyes wide. 

Naegi felt his heart speed up, a cold sensation of dread pooling in his stomach. He hadn’t mentioned the state Sakakura was in when he returned, merely that he was still alive and he’d snapped Naegi out of his despair hypnotism. 

Once more, the boy mentally cursed himself for not helping him when he could; the man was  _ missing an arm _ , for God’s sake. What did Naegi expect to happen? 

He opened his mouth to respond, to tell Asahina that he didn’t think Sakakura would make it, but loud footsteps in the distance dissolved the words on his tongue. His gaze immediately shot down the hallway, in the direction of the sounds. 

It took a few long, aching moments for whatever was approaching to be within sight. 

Once he could finally see what -  _ who _ \- it was, however, Naegi bolted forward to meet them.

Munakata was struggling to walk, his breathing labored as he stepped closer. His head was lowered and his arms were supporting a large weight on his back - something with dangling arms and dragging legs. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Naegi to realize who it was. 

Draped lifelessly on his friend’s back, Sakakura looked even worse than he’d been before, his whole body a mess of wounds and shredded cloth. The blood that wasn’t caked in his hair or smeared on his face was leaking onto Munakata’s jacket, staining the white color a deep crimson. The man’s eyes remained closed and his face was scrunched in an expression of agony; despite everything he’d done, Naegi’s heart broke at the sight. 

“Is he--” The boy began to speak, but was cut off quickly.

“He’s alive. I used Kimura’s medicine, but it won’t last forever. I have to cauterize his arm, but I’ll need your help.” Munakata gave an almost  _ pleading _ glance towards the other survivors, a horribly vulnerable look in his eye. 

Naegi exchanged a glance with Asahina and Mitarai, seeing the respective determination and fear on their faces. There was no question as to whether or not to help; it would go against everything Naegi was if he refused. 

“Of course. Set him down,” the boy replied, trying to force a hint of a hopeful smile.

Munakata let out a small sigh of relief and did just that, gently laying the unconscious man onto the ground. Sakakura flinched once he touched the floor, letting out a soft groan of protest. 

Naegi turned to the white-haired man for instructions on what to do next, confident that Munakata had a plan he’d calculated already. The man was well-prepared most of the time, so it didn’t seem too farfetched to assume he’d thought ahead. 

With a low mutter to himself - perhaps quietly relaying his remorse to his friend - Munakata drew his katana from its sheath, the blade’s heat making it sizzle with steam almost instantly. 

“I’ll need you to unwrap his amputated arm,” Munakata said, and Naegi didn’t hesitate. He knelt next to the man, silently making his own apology to Sakakura in advance for the pain he’d feel soon. Predictably, the boxer didn’t move as Naegi untied his weak-knotted sleeve, the blood trickling faster the moment the tourniquet was loosened. The liquid seeped through to the floor, puddling freely around the cut limb. 

“Someone hold him down!  _ Quickly _ !” Munakata ordered next, and Asahina got down on her knees and wrapped her arms around Sakakura’s torso, holding him still as delicately as possible, so his abdomen wound wasn’t aggravated further.

“Do it!” Asahina cried, her blue eyes clear and unwavering as she braced for the impact of the blade.

Naegi held his breath, watching the katana press down onto Sakakura’s arm stump. The moment it touched him, Sakakura jolted to life, and he screamed. Oh, he  **_screamed_ ** \- it was one of the  _ loudest _ , most _ agonizing _ cries Naegi had ever heard (just for a moment, he had a flashback of Ishimaru’s mournful yells after Oowada’s execution). 

Sakakura’s body also seemed to become aware enough to know what was happening to him, and he thrashed in Asahina’s grip to get away from the pain. Tears freely fell down his cheeks as his screams turned to gasping sobs, fractions of sounds forming through his lips but unable to form words. He continued to struggle, his strength impressive even while unconscious; Naegi had to help keep him as still as possible, holding his legs down. Mitarai stood shaking nearby, and requesting help from him was lost at this point; the boy looked positively  _ terrified _ .

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry -  _ Juzo _ ,” Munakata whispered, his eye screwed shut as the blade pressed even closer to the amputated area. 

The hotness cut through torn flesh, through broken blood vessels and exposed bone to forcefully seal the wound shut. With every hiss of steam, more infected tissue was burned away by the high temperature alone, the skin around the arm melting grotesquely and turning a dry, scabbing red. 

It had clearly been a sloppy amputation, the cut jagged and uneven. As a result, it took that much longer to close, the inconsistent depth making the wound need more heat at some points than others. The air smelled like cooked meat, and Naegi felt sick and hungry all at the same time, a disgusting guilt at the reactions hitting the very pit of his stomach. 

Choking back bile, he kept his grip as tight as he could, closing his eyes when he couldn’t bear to see the man suffering anymore. Beside him, he could feel Asahina trembling as she surely did the same.

Sakakura’s efforts slowed down eventually, growing weaker and weaker until he was left merely cringing and whispering quiet begs for it to  _ stop _ . Naegi tried to ignore the pain he felt in his own heart at the sounds, and focused on what he was told to do, keeping his ears perked for Munakata’s voice.

The hissing sound stopped first, and Munakata’s command to release him followed; Naegi reopened his eyes and did just that, watching the blade pull away from the wound as he let go of Sakakura. The boxer was wheezing, the stump of his left arm twitching and reddened, but no longer bleeding. 

Collectively, everyone let out a sigh of relief. Naegi and Asahina got to their feet slowly, wiping off the blood from their palms on their pants. Mitarai fidgeted nearby, clutching to his phone like a child’s security blanket. 

Munakata fell to his knees beside his friend, taking off his jacket and draping it over the man’s unconscious form. After giving Sakakura a long, heavy look, Munakata turned to stare up at Naegi and Asahina.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice as clear and confident as it had been when they formally met. “Thank you -  _ so much _ . That… wasn’t pleasant, but I think he will survive if we get out of here soon.” 

Asahina nodded. “Now that the game’s over… I’ll assume we can get into contact with Future Foundation?” 

Mitarai nodded meekly. “When Sakakura cut the power, m-my cell phone started working again… I think he shut off a disruptor of some sort.” 

Naegi brightened. “That’s great! Then we  _ will _ leave here soon, Munakata. And he  _ will _ survive.” Besides his natural confidence, he simply couldn’t afford to taint his voice with shakiness or anxiety; his resolve had to be strong, resolute - hardened enough to pacify despair, to shape it into an unbreakable, confident  **hope** .

Munakata cast one more glance towards his friend, and smiled. “Thank you,” he repeated, the beginnings of tears pooling around his eye. “I think, in the end, Sakakura and I  **_both_ ** needed your kind of hope to keep living on.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love Juzo, please don't think I don't. I love seeing my faves suffer, that's all - so long as they're okay in the end. Which Juzo is in this fic, don't worry. He makes it out okay.


End file.
